


Dissipate

by duffmansean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duffmansean/pseuds/duffmansean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are just doing their thing after a nice hunt and then Dean notices something off about Sam.</p><p>For angst_bingo.<br/>Prompt: Disappearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissipate

“Dean,” Sam breathed his name like a prayer as the elder Winchester's tongue traced intricate patterns along the underside of his cock. Pursing his lips tightly around the rigid flesh, Dean took almost all of Sam's prick into his mouth and down his throat. “Nnngh –  _Fuck, Dean_!” Sam's hair sailed in curtains as he threw his head back in pleasure.

 The thread-bare carpet was hard on Dean's knees, but the groans and purrs of contentment issuing out above kept him kneeling between his younger brother's knees. Sliding his hands up the equally frayed comforter, Dean wriggled his fingers beneath Sam's ass, grabbing handfuls of flesh. Feeling Sam's fingers tighten in his short hair, Dean pressed his hands further under Sam, sliding two fingers into the crack of his ass.

 Sam whimpered wantonly and Dean licked slow and deliberately at the head of Sam's cock, letting the flat of his tongue press hard against the sensitive tissue. Emboldened by his little brother's obvious need, Dean let his fingers rub against Sam's hole, as slow and torturous as his tongue.

 “Fuck. Dean –  _please_ ,” Sam pleaded and Dean smiled around the dick in his mouth; if Sam was begging, then who was Dean to deny him what he needed?

 Dean released Sam's prick with an audible, wet  _pop_ and gazed up at his befuddled brother. Sam looked like an angel from where Dean was kneeling. The overhead lamp of their dingy motel room was hiding just behind Sam's bowed head and Sam's sweat-soaked locks were illuminated into a halo around his face. His skin was flushed, practically glowing and...  _glowing_?

 “Dean?” Sam asked breathlessly, sensing the tension in his brother. Struggling through the layers of lust and arousal, Sam managed to conjure half a bitchface and continued , “Dean, if you're about to change your mind again --”

 “Shut up, Sam,” Dean growled but there was no heat behind it. No, Sam knew that voice; it meant Dean was concerned and trying to figure out what to do. It was his hunting voice.

 “What?” Sam frowned, trying to calm his breathing, “What is it?”

 Dean grunted in response and reached up, cupping Sam's face and leaning it to the side. Sure enough, the color of Sam's face changed. It darkened with the absence of the lamp – granted, he still seemed lighter, paler than Dean thought he should be – but when Dean moved Sam's head back, blocking the light, Dean was sure of it: he was seeing the lamp  _through_ Sam.

 His little brother continued to ask what was going on with increasing anxiety but Dean didn't answer. Instead, he reached down and picked up one of Sam's hands, holding it up to the light. Once more, Sam's skin lit up with the illumination. Frowning, he released Sam's hand and held up his own against the light – nothing different there. 

“Dean, what the --”

 “-- see-through.”

 “What?” Sam squawked, having spoken over half of what Dean had said.

 The elder brother sighed, “Sam, I think you're see-through.”

 “ _What_?”

 “New favorite word, Sammy?”

 Sam quickly shut his gaping mouth and replaced it with a scowl.

 Glancing over his shoulder, Dean spotted the mirror that every hotel chose to place right next to the television and dragged Sam up from the bed to stand before it.

 The younger Winchester studied his reflection but his pout of disbelief never wavered.

 Tilt so the light's behind you,” Dean offered, “I didn't notice til I was looking up...” He blushed furiously when he realized what he had implied. 

Sam did as Dean said and, after a moment's further scrutiny, the furrow in his brow smoothed. His eyes grew almost comically wide and his jaw fell slack and he made a small noise somewhat akin to a whimper. With two steps back, Sam sunk onto the edge of the bed, stunned.

 Dean was silent, waiting for Sam's reaction but when Sam only lifted his head and stared at Dean with the most pitiful, deploring, little-brother expression the elder Winchester had seen in a  _long_ time, it was up to Dean to break the silence.

 “I'm thinking that witch we ganked might've hit you with some bad mojo,” he said. There was really no need to explain; knowing Sam, the geekboy's overgrown brain had probably already come to that conclusion and was working on a way to reverse it. But it helped Dean feel in control to offer up an explanation and he knew that Sam would appreciate it for what it was.

 Sam nodded absently, staring straight through the carpet. Shaking himself, Sam looked up at Dean with a small, hesitant smile and said, “Well, guess I should call Bobby, huh?” Dean nodded but Sam was already fastening his jeans back up and grabbing his cell phone off the bed-side table.

 Except Bobby didn't know anything. He promised to look through his expansive library and call back as soon as he had any ideas about what had happened or how to reverse it, but until then... the Winchester brothers were on their own.

 Sam had been bent over his laptop ever since the phone call but Dean had noticed, after several hours of somewhat-silence, that Sam's fingers had stilled and the  _clickity-clack_ of the laptop's keys had ceased. Looking over at his brother, Dean felt another wash of panic – Sam was  _see-through_. He was literally watching his brother disappear in front of his eyes a little bit at a time. Even now, the dull street-lamp outside their room cast an eerie haze through the curtains and made Sam seem to smolder, like a dying ember.

 “Sam?” Dean asked, wondering what his brother had found (why else would he have stopped clicking and clacking) but got no reply. “Sam.” He tried again with more force and managed to jerk him out of some deep thought. “What'd you find?”

 That seemed to get Sam's mind working again and the younger man sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, “Nothing. Dean, I can't find much of anything on this at all.”

 Dean pretended he didn't hear the barely-concealed crack in Sam's voice there at the end.

 He got up from his spot at the table and climbed up on the bed next to Sam, bumping shoulders with him. “Hey,” he whispered against Sam's neck, “We'll get this figured out, okay?” He waited for Sam to agree and shouldered him again to get a nod. “Bobby'll call tomorrow or you'll find something. Your freaky Google skills have never failed before.” He grinned and it grew wider when Sam caught it.

 “Come on,” Dean said as he took the laptop away from Sam and let it sit on the floor despite Sam's muttered complaints. He coaxed his little brother under the covers and curled tightly against him, chest flush to Sam's back. “We'll figure this out tomorrow, okay?” And they would.


End file.
